


The Grandmaster’s Newest Contestant

by Strength_in_pain



Category: Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies), Spider-Man - All Media Types
Genre: Arena, BAMF Peter Parker, Cages, Contest of Champions, Gen, Kidnapped Peter Parker, Peter Parker Whump, Sassy Peter Parker, Tough Peter Parker, Whumptober 2020, branded
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-14
Updated: 2020-10-14
Packaged: 2021-03-08 20:28:27
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,693
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27002755
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Strength_in_pain/pseuds/Strength_in_pain
Summary: The man who branded him, grinned. “Now you’ll always have something to remember us by, Spider-Man.” He let Peter’s foot fall. “And maybe now you’ll realize you’re nothing more than a number in this world. There’s nothing special or heroic about you.”ORAnother Whumptober Prompt. #14 Branded.
Relationships: Peter Parker & Peter Quill, Peter Parker & X-Men Team
Comments: 6
Kudos: 74
Collections: Whumptober 2020





	The Grandmaster’s Newest Contestant

**Author's Note:**

> Oh my gosh, everyone! I just wrote a story where Peter doesn’t cry! I don’t think I’ve ever done that before. 😂 
> 
> Is it still Whump if he doesn’t cry? I think so. He’s still getting hurt. He’s just handling it like a badass this time. Go Peter! Whoo.

Peter blinked a few times waiting for his eyes to focus. Somehow he got knocked unconscious, and now, he was trapped in some type of cage in the back of some abandoned building. Water was puddled on the cracked cement floor, that was the first thing Peter could see. 

Wincing, the teen grabbed his head with both hands and dropped to his knees, massaging his aching temples. 

_What happened to him?_

He couldn’t remember a thing. Not how he got there, or where he was. Shifting his weight, Peter grimaced at the metal cuffs that were holding him to the cage. His hands clenched and unclenched tightly against the sharp iron as he struggled to suppress the waves of panic rising in his chest. 

_What was he doing before this?_

He was chasing someone before he got caught. _Yeah, but who?_ Looking at his hands, Peter noticed they were still covered in his Spider-Man suit. Whoever caught him wasn’t interested in unmasking him, then. That’s good. 

So seriously, what was going on? 

The door to the back room creaked open, and Peter heard two voices talking lowly. He lifted his tired eyes, but couldn’t see his captors. The sounds of their footsteps, however, were getting closer and closer. 

“I hope you brought your wallet. I have a very special treat for you tonight.”

“You said that last time, Grandmaster, and I lost.”

“Ah, but last time you didn’t have _him.”_

A bright light flashed in Peter’s face, disorientating him. He stumbled back, a blur movement had him involuntarily flinching, and he fell back against the cage landing on his butt. 

“Is that -“ The tall, younger looking man trailed off.

“Spider-Man. My newest contestant.” The old man said, his smile was all sharp angles and crooked teeth. 

At last the bright light faded and Peter could see clearly. Two men were staring at him as if he’d grown three-heads. 

“Hey...” Peter stood up slowly, “I know you. You’re that guy I was chasing. You robbed a bank.”

The younger man with dark brown hair smirked. “I’m so sorry about that Spider-Man, but I needed money for the games tonight. Allow me to introduce myself, I am Kyle Richmond, business man.” 

“And I’m En Dwi Gast, but you will address me as Grandmaster.”

Peter’s head throbbed painfully, and he finally registered the pain was also radiating from the back of his neck. 

“Did you tranquilize me?” He accused in a high-pitched groan, hand rubbing his aching neck in a fast motion. 

“Yes, sorry.” The Grandmaster did not sound sorry at all, “But when I saw you chasing my client, I felt like you would be an excellent adversary in our game.”

“A game? What are you playing, chess?”

The Grandmaster paused, with one hand held-up. “Oh it’s much better than that. You’ll soon find out. That is, of course, if Mr. Richmond wants you.”

“Oh yeah, I want him to be my third pawn, no question.”

Peter licked his dry lips. 

“Wait, so let me get this straight, you’re kidnapping people and forcing them to play as pawns in some sick twisted game?”

“The spider learns fast.”

“Haven’t you ever heard of monopoly?” The Grandmaster’s gaze hardened, and he clenched his teeth. Peter continued, “Or Pictionary? Charades? Checkers? Battle Ship?”

“Enough!” The Grandmaster boomed, and Peter’s eyes darted towards the cage door. All he had to do was get the shackles off his wrists and he could easily yank the bars to the cage wide open. 

“If you do buy him, you’ll need to train him quickly before our first match.” The Grandmaster muttered, looking Peter up-and-down with disgust. 

“It shouldn’t be too hard. He’s just a kid, after all. His mind soaks in new lessons like a sponge. Unlike old dogs. You can’t teach them new tricks. But young pups can be whipped into shape easy.”

“I hate to shatter your daydreams, Mr. Richmond, but that’s gotta be the most screwed up version of a figure of speech I have ever heard. You really ought to do your research. I sure hope you’re not planning on giving a public speech any time soon, because whoo-we, that sucked.”

The man looked down at his captive with disdain. A tingling sensation pricked at the back of Peter’s neck, and it wasn’t the tranq. _Danger, danger, danger._

Peter tensed his wrists, and yanked as hard as he could, effectively freeing himself from the shackles, and flipping out of the way just in time to avoid becoming a fried spider.

Richmond kept his taser inside the cage, fuming. But The Grandmaster put his hand on his shoulder. 

“Don’t be upset, look how strong and smart the boy is. That’s something to cheer about.”

“Makes him difficult to control though.” Richmond seethed, breathing heavily through his nostrils.

“Maybe. But he’ll obey. He doesn’t really have a choice.”

As if on cue, Peter charged forward, and gripped the bars on his cage for a split second before jolting back with a shrill. 

“No point struggling, little Spider thing. That cage is made of Electrified Titanium Alloyed. Three times stronger than steel. You’ll never get out.”

Richmond smirked, “It looks like the Grandmaster did do his research after all.”

“Come on!” Peter shouted as loud as he could. “This is _so_ stupid! No one in their right mind is going to pay to watch this stupid game.”

“On the contrary, most of the criminal world is involved with the underground fight-ring and they would love to watch this match. You’ve made many enemies, my friend.”

Peter tilted his head to the side, thinking it over. He couldn’t really argue there, so he stayed quiet.

He watched through batted eyelashes as Richmond signed a piece of paper. He grabbed a heavy metal hook that was connected to a crane and slipped it through the top of Peter’s cage. 

“I’ll introduce you to your partner before I put you on stage. Get ready for a big performance, Spider-Man.”

Before Peter had a chance to respond, the crane yanked his cage off the ground and placed him on some type of conveyer belt.

The warehouse looked on the verge of collapse. It was basically a rusted collage of scrape metal, but it worked well-enough to carry the weight of Peter’s cage all the way to the top floor, like an elevator.

He could hear music, and thumps of a bass vibrating his entire cage as it landed in a dark room. Peter’s head burst apart, and he gasped noiselessly at the pain. 

The music was too loud, rolling through him, rattling his head. He blinked his eyes open and found himself backstage where stage lights were burning into his irises. 

There were two people on each side of Peter’s cage, holding long pointed sticks. He flinched as the sticks started coming near him, placing make-up on his face. 

There was another cage across the room from him, but Peter’s eyes couldn’t focus, the light blinding him to the dark figure. 

Rambunctious yelling and jeering could be heard from the other room. Peter knew he had to be close to the arena. It was just on the other side of those thick doors.

“If one more person puts that awful-smelling perfume on me, I swear I will hunt you down one-by-one and make your drink it! And give me back my walk-man you son of a bitch!”

“Starlord?” Peter whispered, blinking his eyes against the light. 

“What- who said that?”

“It’s me. Spider-Man. We met once.” He shifted in his cage enough so he could get a good look at the man.

“Hey. Hey yeah. I know you. You’re that kid that doesn’t like footloose.” 

“Well, I didn’t say I didn’t like it. I just said it wasn’t the greatest movie of all time.”

“Right there, see, that’s where you’re wrong.”

Peter was about to argue, but he shook his head. This wasn’t the time. 

“Starlord. We need to get out of here.”

The man, with his brown hair and strong arms, shrugged his shoulders sluggishly. “No can do. We’re wanted on stage any minute. The only way we can get out of here is if we win over a hundred matches.”

“What?!” Peter shrieked. “That’s crazy. We can’t fight one-hundred matches. We’ll die.”

“Yeah, I think that’s kinda the point.” Starlord rolled his eyes, “But this next dude we’re going against. He’s like the best they got. Rumor has it, he’s won 55 fights. So he’s over half-way there already.”

Peter huffed, crossing his arms. “I don’t plan on winning one fight let alone 55.”

Starlord twisted around so he could get a better look at him. Peter noticed in the backstage mirror, that Starlord had blood caked down the middle of his face. His hair was wild, and his lip swollen. 

“I really hope you’re joking with me because you’re my partner and I _need_ to win this next fight.”

Peter shook his head, “No, I’m not kidding. We need to escape, not fight. I bet whoever our opponent is would want to escape too.”

Starlord scoffed, “Look spider-kid. You’re young and hopeful but what you need to understand is in the real world, not everyone teams up and runs away together on a big fantastic adventure. Okay? Got it? These people are out to save their own asses. It’s every man for himself out there, so you need to focus. We are going win this fight. Okay?”

“But -“

“No! Dammit. I’m not losing another one. If I lose one more this week they’ll send me back to the cellar.”

Peter didn’t know what that meant, but he knew desperation when he saw it. Starlord was terrified of something, and absolutely desperate to win. But Peter was determined. And sometimes determination out wins desperation. 

“Listen, I have a plan on how we can escape.” He whispered quietly. 

“Oh yeah? How? Because I’ve tried. Like a gazillion times.”

Peter chewed his bottom lip, “I don’t know yet.”

Starlord laughed out loud, throwing his head back and gripping his stomach, “That’s great. Just great. Oh shit, thank you for the laugh. You’re too funny, kid.”

“I’m thinking.” Peter said, and Starlord’s smile immediately dropped. 

“Look, if you want to make it out of here alive, just do what they say and fight.”

“Number forty two.”

Starlord winced, and suddenly his cage was shoved out into center stage. The noise from the crowd deafened Peter’s ears for a moment, and then he heard a loud voice that spoke out, over top of the crowd.

“Only serious bets here, ladies and gentlemen. How many of you are going to bet on Starlord versus Rouge?”

Backstage, someone called out another number and Peter jumped away from a painful taser that was thrusted at him. He clung to the top of the cage, but immediately fell when his hands burned due to the electric metal. 

Peter whimpered as the taser finally shocked his body, and he spasmed uncontrollably while the cage opened. He was dragged out and slammed face-first onto the dirty ground.

“T-T-That was-s-sn’t very n-n-nice. That’s gonna have to be a z-z-zero on the staff treatment survey.”

He was silenced by a kick to his stomach, then Mr. Richmond walked in. Peter could tell by his black and red boots. 

“Take him to be branded and then get him on stage.”

The other three goons grabbed ahold of Peter’s arms as he struggled to get away. He flopped and kicked and twisted in their grip, not liking the sound of being ‘branded’ at all.

He was pulled through two more rooms, and Peter noticed a bunch of cages filled with young teenagers that were bleeding and crying. Some kids were unconscious, others were going hysterical, screaming to be freed.

Peter thought he was going to be sick. His captors dragged him away from the ‘waiting’ room and into a ‘medic’ room in the back. A few more young adults were laying unconscious in this room, but Peter was more concerned with the fire at the far end. 

A man was waiting in there, a dangerous grin on his lips and was twirling an iron bar in the fire. 

“No!” Peter cried, vigorously trying to free himself but the effects of the taser had not worn off, leaving him weak. “No, please, get off of me!”

The man by the fire pulled out the hot red iron, and Peter could clearly see the number 85 glowing brightly at the end of it.

Peter paled, and tried again to get away from them, but he was shoved to his knees, his foot being grabbed from behind. His Spider-Man shoe/sock was yanked off and tossed across the room. 

The burning hot metal was lowered onto the bottom of his foot, burning his tender flesh the second it made contact. Peter screamed, his foot instinctively flinching to get away from the burn, but unable to move thanks to the men holding him in place. 

It was like grabbing a hot tray out of the oven, except, instead of letting go of the tray immediately and cursing at the agonizing pain, he was forced to hold on to the tray, letting the thing burn his skin clear to the bone.

It was unbearable. He was just about to puke when his foot was plunged into a bucket of ice water. Peter took a moment to breathe as the pain ebbed away slightly. Not much. Just enough to breathe again. 

The man who branded him, grinned. “Now you’ll always have something to remember us by, Spider-Man.” He let Peter’s foot fall. “And maybe now you’ll realize you’re nothing more than a number in this world. There’s nothing special or heroic about you.” 

For a while, Peter was certain he was in a state of shock, and when he could finally fathom what was happening to him, he was being shoved through a a gate. Once again he fell hard onto the ground. He was getting really sick of that. Definitely a zero rating for this sick twisted place, and a nasty review to go with it. 

A chorus of cheers surrounded him, and Peter knew without moving that he was in the arena. 

Peter tried not to think about the agony in his foot, or the pounding of his head, and instead focused on the man standing opposite of him. 

“Ladies and Gentleman, place your bets! Residing champ, Remy LeBeau versus the rookie Spider-Man!”

Peter peered up, trying to fight the nausea still swirling in his stomach. He was in the arena, and it looked like one of those wrestling arenas on TV, except this one had a twelve foot fence around it. Peter could practically hear the electricity running through the wires. 

Peter eyed his opponent, then turned to see Starlord standing in front of Rouge. So Remy and Rouge were a team, and he was on a team with Starlord. Okay. Peter could do this. 

No wait. He didn’t want to fight them. They weren’t his enemy. He needed to escape. 

It wasn’t like they fought to the death in the arena, just to unconsciousness, but still, Peter didn’t want to hurt these guys. 

“Ready for the match of a life time?” The Grandmaster asked. Cheers exploded, splitting Peter’s head in half. “On the count of three. One. Two... Three!”

Before Peter had a chance to try and stand on his throbbing foot, the guy charged at him, swinging a large fist at his head. 

Peter blocked it by grabbing hold of the fist with his hand. It was the same move he used on the guy with the metal arm back in the airport when Mr. Stark first wanted him to fight. 

The guy’s eyes widened, and Peter could see a glimmer of fear flash through them.

“Remy, Listen -“

“My name is Gambit!” He yelled, taking a step backwards, freeing his arm from Peter’s grip.

“Okay, listen, Gambit. We don’t have to fight.”

Gambit charged at him again, and this time Peter rolled out of the way, still staying low to the ground to avoid putting pressure on his foot.

“Ah, mousier Spider-Man, you clearly are a rookie.”

Peter did a handstand to doge the next two punches thrown his way, and landed on his one foot, the other was barely grazing the ground as Peter gimped around the arena. “No I’m not... well, yeah I am, but that’s not the point! Look, we can figure out a way to escape this place together.”

Gambit let out a low belly chuckle. “Spider-Man, you are naive. No one escapes the Contest of Champions unless you are victorious.”

They spent sometime staring at each other, circling one another warily. 

“I bet we can. If we all put our heads together.”

A pained cry echoed through the arena as Starlord fell to the ground, injured. Rouge hovered over him and took her glove off. 

“Relax sugar, I’m just gonna drain your life, only until you’re unconscious. I promise I won’t kill you.”

Peter shot two webs in quick succession, effectively wrapping Rouge in a cocoon. She dropped to the ground and kicked her legs in irritation. 

“Uh, how about you don’t do any of that. Thank you.” Peter flashed her a thousand watt smile. 

Without warning, except for his lovely Spidey sense, two flaming cards buzzed towards his face. Peter dropped to the ground just in time to avoid being hit by something that just exploded behind him.

He popped back up, and spun towards Gambit with wide-eyes. “Did you just throw a bomb at me?!”

“Kinetic energy, but yes, it makes t’ings go boom.”

Peter shot a web at the far side of the arena and began to swing around Gambit, mainly to avoid his foot touching anything. 

“Whoa! So you have powers too? That’s so cool.”

“I’m a mutant.”

“I am too.” Peter said, grinning from ear to ear. “Mine was caused by a spider bite at a...” He trailed off, noticing Starlord was approaching Rouge from the corner of his eye. 

“No!” He shouted just as Starlord leaped over Rouge with his elbow exposed, ready to knock her into oblivion. Webs whipped around Starlord’s body and he fell to the ground, rolling in his cocoon of webs as well.

“What the hell, Spider-Man?! You’re supposed to be on my side you spandex loving freak.”

“Sorry, Mr. Quill, sir. But you can’t hurt them either. No one is going to knock anyone out, okay? We all need to plan on escaping together.”

“Gotta hand it to him for keeping a positive attitude,” Rouge said as she peeled the webs off her. “All right, any suggestions on how we escape.”

“Cherie! I am not giving up my status in the arena to gamble such a risk.” Gambit yelled.

“Well I don’t wanna die in here neither.” Rouge drew in a deep breath, “What’s the plan, Spider-Man.”

Plan. Plan. What was the plan? Think Peter, think. 

“Um...” Peter flashed a brief, professionally confident smile, chocolate-brown eyes bright and determined. “Idea. You use your weird energy trick thingy to short-circuit the electric fence, and then I’ll web us up, and swing us out of here. Then we all go for Nachos. Deal?”

“Way too risky. I would have to touch da fence,” Gambit explained, throwing another punch at this point to make it look like they were still fighting, “Besides, I know I’m not strong enough.”

“Maybe not alone, you ain’t. But with two of us, we might just be able to short-circuit this sucker.” Rouge said, already slipping off her glove.

Starlord jiggled his web-bound legs, “Guys. We need to hurry. The Grandmaster is coming down here and he’s got electric whips with him.”

Gambit closed his eyes and let Rouge absorb some of his power. But that left him slightly weaker than normal.

“There’s no guarantee this will work.” He mumbled, “And if it doesn’t, Gambit blames you.”

Peter nodded his head in understanding. “Normally I would take offense, but I totally get it.”

Gambit and Rouge’s blast of the fence caused the arena to erupt in a bright white light, and Peter leaped towards Starlord’s side, attaching him to his web, and shooting him over the fence.

The crowd was booing and gasping, some were cheering, but mostly it was just a loud roar of confusion. 

Peter hobbled towards Gambit and Rouge, but the Grandmaster had opened the tunnel’s gate and was charging towards him. He slapped his whip back, about to strike. So Peter decided to hurry things along, and swung from his webs at remarkable speed. He swooped down and collected both Rouge and Gambit before propelling them out of the Arena and into the grass on the other side. Just in time for the whips to hit dust. 

Gambit tensed as Rouge let out a squeal of success. “I can’t believe that actually worked. Oh my God.” She jumped up and down. 

Starlord, at last, was able to free himself from Peter’s webs, and he slowly untangled the sticky substance from his body. 

“Thanks Spider-Man. If you’re ever in space again, I’ll owe you one.” With that, Quill took off running through the forest, apparently knowing where to go, or at least not wanting to wait any longer to figure it out.

“Well sugar, you better get home and get that wound looked at.” Rouge said, pointing at the red patch of welding skin. 

“I will,” Peter said with a smile. “But then I’m coming back.”

“You’re - what?!”

“You saw what was happening to those poor contestants. They were suffering. I have to stop the Grandmaster’s games once and for all. That place is a nightmare, and no one deserves to be tortured.”

“That’s just plain foolishness,” Rouge said, waving him off.

“But Nobel.” Gambit added.

“Story of my life.” Peter shrugged. “But don’t worry, this time I’ll have a lot more help. I’ve got a whole team that will back me up.”

“Yeah? We got a team too. Maybe they’ll just have to join forces and take down The Grandmaster together.”

Peter smiled. “Maybe they will.” 

**Author's Note:**

> So I’ll admit this was a weird one. Not a typical story I would normally write. But with Whumptober, I feel like I have a chance to try out some different things. Let me know if you enjoyed a more sassy, tough Peter. (I like both equally.)


End file.
